


the seasons always change, and life will find a way

by ifimightchime



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adult Number Five | The Boy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Getting Together, Harcest Ficmas 2020, M/M, Minor Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, but I'm not sure I'd call this a happy AU; everyone still has issues. especially Luther., nobody got stranded in the future and nobody died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifimightchime/pseuds/ifimightchime
Summary: The first December after leaving home, Five comes to visit the Academy on Christmas Eve and brings Luther a card. It becomes a tradition.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38
Collections: Harcest Ficmas 2020





	the seasons always change, and life will find a way

**Author's Note:**

> For Harcest Ficmas day three: Cards.  
> Title: _Winter Song_ , Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson
> 
> The title song is probably a better recommended listening than what I actually wrote this to, which was Pentatonix's cover of _Sweater Weather_ on repeat.

**_December 24th, 2007_ **

"You look relaxed," is the first thing Luther says when Five strolls through the door. It's a new development. Five keeps saying the coursework in his freshman classes is boring at best and actively stupid at worst, that they're so far beneath what he'd studied alone that he's not sure why he's even there, but he keeps finding things to stress about anyway. Professors, classmates, the state of the campus, and if nothing at school is giving him a reason, there's always the rest of family.

"We're on break," Five says with a smile, and it takes Luther a moment to remember why. Five waits for the recognition to dawn on him before adding, "Merry Christmas."

He pulls an envelope out of his breast pocket, holding it out for Luther. He blinks at it for a moment before taking it, looking down to see his name written in careful script as Five walks past.

"I'll be back," he calls over his shoulder, and Luther shuts the door. It's a routine, the quick stop into Dad's office when Five comes by, before he can sit down and talk. Luther's still not sure of all the details of Five's arrangement with Dad, and neither of them seem to be in a hurry to explain, so he's not sure what they're talking about -- Five's academic record, maybe? -- but Five never looks particularly bothered by it, and Dad rarely comes out of the office to join them afterwards. Which is fine. It's nice, to have some time with the only sibling who still seems to want to see him. Sometimes Mom sits with them, too.

He slides the envelope open while he's waiting. There's a card inside, a calming scene with blue snow and a warmly glowing house, and a simple _Merry Christmas!_ embossed on the front. There's almost nothing written on the inside, just a tidy number 5 in the lower right corner.

They've never celebrated holidays. Dad always said they had better things to do. Cards have come from Dad's acquaintances and people he's had business with, even some of the people they've saved or help over the years, but Luther's never gotten anything from his siblings. Not for Christmas. Luther slides it carefully back into the envelope and sets it on the bookshelf, on top of the book he's been reading, to bring upstairs with him tonight.

Five isn't long. He's still not looking particularly stressed when he appears in the doorway, leaning against it for a moment as he looks around, like he's looking to see if anything's changed since he last visited six weeks ago.

"Merry Christmas," Luther says, and Five smiles.

It's a nice evening. Five shares stories, telling him about Vanya's recent audition and some of his own weirder classmates, how his finals went. It's not intended to be a special holiday dinner, but Mom always makes something nice when one of the others visit, and it almost feels that way. The fire is warm and the time seems to fly by, until Luther startles awake in his chair and realizes he'd dozed off to the sound of Five's voice.

Five is watching him, his expression soft and thoughtful in the dim firelight. His tie has come loose but not quite undone, cuffs unbuttoned and rolled up, shoes off and his long legs stretched out in front of him. The casualness of it suits him surprisingly well; Five's always seemed the most comfortable in the day-to-day uniform, and he still dresses almost the same when he comes to visit, ties and vest and neatly pressed jackets that no longer bear the Umbrella Academy symbol. Luther wonders if he still looks like that when he's not here, or if he looks more like this more undone version of himself most of the time -- or something else entirely, if there's a version of Five that comes out far away from the Academy's walls that Luther will never see.

He yawns, and opens his mouth to apologize, but Five waves it off before he can even finish the first word.

"It's late," he says, sitting up to stretch before reaching for his shoes. "I should be going anyway."

"Okay," Luther says, trying not to be disappointed by it. Five's been around the entire evening, and even the fact that he comes back to visit at all is surprising. Luther doesn't need to try and keep him longer.

Five stops next to his chair, his hand closing over Luther's shoulder, and Luther leans into the touch of it.

"Happy holidays, Luther," he says, quietly, and then he's gone, the sound of his footsteps echoing out of the room and down the hall. The heat of his hand stays long after the door closes behind him, a comfort as Luther prepares for tomorrow's duties and gets himself to bed.

**_December 24th, 2009_ **

Luther feels like he's been waiting for Christmas Eve to roll around for ages, by the time Five actually turns up at the door. Two years is already enough for him to be expecting it, and the move to more advanced courses has left Five with less time to visit over the last few months than he'd had before. Five seems to love it -- has been thriving, still stressed when he comes around but with an edge of enjoyment and pride when he talks about his work that hadn't been there before -- and Luther can't begrudge him for that, but he'd missed seeing one of his siblings regularly. 

Klaus still pops by sometimes, when he has nowhere to sleep, but that feels different. He's rarely sober for more than a few minutes in the morning, and is too busy avoiding Dad to sit and spend time together. Luther worries about him, but Klaus ducks any attempts at help or talking about his life, and there's only so much he can do before Klaus declares it not worth the bed and ducks out again.

The time with Five is pleasant, a nice break from the monotony of missions, training, and trying to fill his days. Luther feels like he looks forward to it more every time he leaves.

He has a card to present this time, exchanging the envelope for the one Five hands over. It's not much, but Luther thought it'd be nice to reciprocate. Five probably won't care as much as Luther does about the cards, which sit carefully displayed in his bedroom where he can see them easily, but it's still polite.

"Thanks, Luther," Five says, his smile bright and the thanks sounding unexpectedly genuine. Luther grins.

There's a note in this one, printed wishes for joy in the season and signed with the customary neat number in the corner, and Luther runs his fingers over it before setting the card away again, waiting for Five to reappear from his meeting with Dad.

It's the same good time as the last couple of years, with a nice meal and Mom sitting happily at the end of the table with them, as she does sometimes when Dad doesn't come to eat. Five talks about the end of his semester, how the projects he'd been working on when he'd last visited has turned out, a little about some personal research projects he's been working at. He asks about Luther's last few missions as well, how his training's been, and seems happy enough to listen, even if Luther has less to share.

He doesn't realize Five's been avoiding the subject of their siblings until after dinner, when he stops to grab something out of his jacket before they move to the chairs by the fire. Luther watches, curious, and is confused when Five hands over another card -- until he opens it, anyway.

"I thought you'd want to see," Five says quietly, and Luther almost doesn't register it as he stares down at the picture of Allison and her new husband. She's still written her name as Allison Hargreeves in the signature, no mention of Patrick, and Luther's fingers flex as he fights the urge to touch the letters in her handwriting, the picture of her face.

He knew, of course. He follows Allison's career carefully, even looks at the gossip just to get a glimpse of how she's doing between movies. But knowing and seeing is something different, and as good as it is to touch something that's been held by her hands again, he almost wishes he didn't.

She doesn't send letters, or cards, or call home. She hadn't fought with Dad while leaving, like Diego, or outright said that she'd never planned to set foot inside again, like Ben -- but she doesn't contact them, and that says enough.

Five is watching, and Luther clears his throat, handing the card back.

"Are you okay?" Five asks quietly.

"She looks happy," Luther says, and makes himself smile. "That's good."

Five keeps watching him, lips pressed together like he's considering his next words, but when Luther asks about his classes for next semester, he lets the subject change.

**_December 24th, 2010_ **

"I can't stay long," Five says as they exchange cards this time, and Luther tries not to let his disappointment show.

"Going somewhere?"

Five shrugs. "Something like that."

 _Mom made your favorite_ , Luther thinks, but it feels too pathetic to say, too much like begging Five to spend time with him, so he doesn't. He settles into the chair by the fire as Five makes his way to Dad's office, opening the envelope. The card is golden and red, a fireplace scene, proclaiming wishes for the new year, but Luther slides it away again before he opens it. He'll look later, after Five leaves.

It isn't long before Five joins him, and Luther forces a smile as he asks about the end of the semester. He sits back as Five talks about clashing with a professor about his choice of topics, and tries to lose himself in the chatter without focusing on how little time they'll have, compared to the last few years.

He asks questions to keep Five talking instead, draws out information about his classes and what he's heard from the rest of the family, instead of offering his own routine mission stories like he usually does. Five hesitates after sharing a story from one of Vanya's students, and Luther's laughter dies as he watches his brother glance from the fire to the doorway, wondering if this means it's time for him to go.

"Listen," Five says abruptly, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "You should come back with me."

He's always said plainly that his door is open if Luther ever wants to drop by, to just let him know so he'll be there. He's never directly suggested coming with him, though, and Luther frowns, wondering what it is he's leaving to do, if he's in some kind of trouble and trying to hint that he wants backup -- but that doesn't seem like Five, really. Five liked to handle his own problems even when they were all going out on missions, and would rather play backup for everyone else than ask them for help.

"Ben's at my apartment," Five continues, which isn't the last thing Luther could have imagined, but it's still far from what he expected. "Visiting for winter break. You should come, too. We can have dinner together, you two can catch up."

"Oh, I don't know." 

"Come on, Luther. Why not?"

Ben never said anything about Luther, never asked him to stay away and rarely got angry with him even when they were kids, but he wanted so badly to get away, and even if Five seems to be everyone's exception when it comes to staying in touch, that doesn't mean he wants to see anyone else. Luther isn't even sure where Ben lives, what college he ended up at.

Besides -- "Sombody should be here," he says, glancing towards the door, towards the alarm that's sitting silent. "In case something happens."

A flash of frustration crosses Five's face, mouth flattening and hands twisting together, there and gone before he speaks again. "I have a phone," he says, tone unexpectedly light, and he reaches over unexpectedly, jostles Luther's leg lightly. "Come on," he says again, softer this time. "It's a holiday, Luther. You should be with your family."

Dad is family, too, and Luther thinks about saying that, but it feels hollow, like the wrong answer. He thinks about pointing out that they don't really do anything for the holiday anyway, besides the cards that are starting to feel like a tradition, which they've already exchanged; all they do is eat and talk, and they could do that any day of the year, already do it plenty of times.

But he wants to go. He _likes_ spending the holiday with Five, more than he'd realized before it was going to be taken away. It feels special, even if there isn't much of a difference. It's _nice_.

"I should ask--"

"You're twenty-one, Luther," Five interrupts. Luther isn't sure how to read the look on his face, the way he says it. "You don't need to ask Dad's permission to go out."

And, well, it's true, even if it feels wrong. "I should tell him, at least."

"Mom can do that," Five says. "I'll tell her while you get your coat, okay?"

He holds Luther's gaze, waiting for confirmation, and Luther tries to think if there's any other reason he shouldn't, tries to tell himself it's not a good idea -- but he nods anyway, the wanting winning out over everything else.

Five smiles and stands up, clasping Luther's shoulder for a moment as he stops by his chair, the way he usually does as he leaves. "I'm glad," he says quietly, and Luther is pretty sure he means it.

The cab ride is quiet, Luther fiddling nervously with the edges of his scarf, still worried how Ben's going to react. Five stay silent, watching the streets whiz by outside the window, but he places a hand on Luther's arm after a little while, glancing sideways to offer him a comforting smile.

Then they're there, and Luther braces himself as Five pays the driver, following a few steps behind as Five narrates a quick, silly story about one of his neighbors while they make their way up to his apartment.

"We're back," Five announces when he opens the door, and Ben lights up, moving out of the kitchen chair where he's sitting.

"Hey, you came!" He crosses the room quickly, enveloping Luther in a hug before he's even out of the doorway. It takes a second for Luther to return in, but he does, closing his eyes and letting the worry drop away with a deep breath.

Ben looks completely different after three years away, despite his actual physical appearance barely having changed. The uniform is gone, traded for a big sweater and an even bigger hoodie that hangs unzipped over it. He smiles again, the bags under his eyes less pronounced, and he talks more. The sickly quiet that had come over him the last few years home seems to have faded; Luther thinks about Ben cringing at every mission, every training, getting quieter and looking more tired by the day, and he feels suddenly, unexpectedly glad that he left.

"It's good to see you again. I missed you," Ben says at one point, and Luther's surprised that he seems to mean it.

"I missed you too," he answers, and he's even more surprised to get another hug as a result. He touches more, this new, happier Ben, nudging Luther easily aside in the kitchen as he reaches for the plates, leaning against Five's leg when he sits in front of the couch to watch television. They watch holiday specials that none of them recognize, and they laugh more than Luther thinks he has in years.

"I should go," he says eventually, reluctantly, and Ben and Five share a look that he doesn't understand.

"It's pretty late," Five says. "You could just take the couch."

He looks at Ben. "Aren't you," he starts, and Ben shakes his head.

"Guest room. There's plenty of room for you, if you want to stay."

And Luther does. He shouldn't. There's training to do tomorrow, and who knows when a mission will come up. But he wants to.

"We can go for donuts tomorrow," Five adds, smiling. "There's a place down the street that says they'll be open."

"Let me call home," Luther says, and Five gestures towards the telephone before disappearing down the hall.

He comes back as Luther is saying goodbye to Mom and hanging up, arms full of blankets that Luther moves forward to help him with. "Did you leave any in there?" he jokes, and Five grins.

"I have plenty more."

Luther laughs a little, wondering what Five's bed must look like, if he's surrounded himself with blankets for some reason. They make the couch up together, and then sit instead, caught up in conversation as Luther explains a mission that almost went wrong that he hadn't mentioned before. Ben sticks his head out of the hallway to say goodnight while they're still talking, and Five tells him to turn off the lights as he leaves.

They're sitting in the glow of the muted television instead of the fire, but it's still familiar, sitting here talking with Five late into the night on Christmas. Luther feels settled, as the conversation winds around his training and Klaus' latest appearance, Five's classes for next semester and his plans for the rest of Ben's visit.

The conversation trails into quiet eventually, and Five stands with a familiar stretch. "I should get some sleep," he says, but he sounds reluctant. It feels silly to be happy about that, that his brother wants to stay here with him even as they're barely talking, but Luther does, too tired to keep the smile from slipping onto his face.

Five stops behind the couch, his hand closing over Luther's shoulder as he usually does to say goodnight, but he lingers this time, looking down at him. Luther tips his head back against the couch to meet his eyes, and the expression he's wearing is strange, almost sad and full of something Luther can't place.

"What am I going to do about you, Luther?" Five says softly, and before Luther can ask what he means by that, he leans over, pressing his lips gently to Luther's forehead. It's not a gesture he's done before, but it feels nice, and Luther's eyes slip closed and stay that way even as Five straightens, squeezes his shoulder, and starts down the hall.

**_December 25th, 2011_ **

Five never shows up, on Christmas Eve. Luther spends the evening hovering in the sitting room, the hallway, waiting for him, and he has his dinner silently, Dad at his customary place and Mom looking sad when she brings in the food.

He's not waiting for the knock the next day, just lingering around the room, looking for a book to read. He's really not expecting it to be Five when he opens the door, leaning against the railing with his hands in his pockets, his face distant and lost in thought.

"Oh," Luther says, surprise drawing the noise out of him. 

Five looks up, slowly, and he smiles a little as he meets Luther's eyes, a bitter quirk of one side of his mouth. "I'm sorry I missed Christmas Eve," he says quietly.

Luther had considered calling, yesterday, when Five never turned up, but he'd never said he was coming, this or any other year, just turned up and made it into a routine, and there didn't seem to be a reason to believe anything was wrong. If Five had other places to be, Luther didn't want to hold him to a promise he hadn't made.

"It's okay," he says, and pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "Do you want to come in?"

"Do I?" Five echoes, and laughs, even though there's nothing to laugh about. "Yeah. I'll come in."

Luther steps back to let him in, waiting for him to go upstairs and take his meeting with Dad. Five heads straight for the other room instead, and Luther follows after a moment of surprise, settling in his usual chair by the fireplace.

Five leans against the wall instead of sitting down, arms crossed over his chest, that far-away look still on his face.

"Is everything okay?" Luther asks, and Five frowns.

"Why are you still here?"

Luther recoils at the dismissal, hands closing over the arms of the chair as he gets ready to push himself out of it, but Five waves impatiently, shaking his head.

"No -- that's not what I mean. I mean _here_ ," he says, gesturing around at the room, the Academy, and Luther settles into his chair again, frowning.

"Somebody has to stay. We have a job to do," he says, and tries not to let the bitterness he sometimes feels about being the only one doing it show.

"Nobody _has_ to stay. If you want to play superhero, even if you want to let Dad keep telling you where to go, you could do it from somewhere else. They have phones, they have cars. You could go to school. You could get a place to live. You could _leave_."

"And then I could miss a call because I'm in class, or I could not get there fast enough." The defensiveness is creeping in, and Luther can hear it, bristling in his voice, but he can't help it, after Five's dismissive tirade and the pointed, almost angry way he's watching Luther.

"Crime doesn't happen here either, does it? You have to go to the scene wherever you are. What if you're closer from wherever you end up?"

"What's this about, Five?" Luther interrupts, and Five scowls.

"It's about you, _Number One_ ," Five says, and hearing his title in that tone is like a shock. "You alone in this house with that asshole, not talking to anyone else, and all the other things you could be doing. You're smart, Luther, you could be in school, find something you love doing. You could have followed Allison to Hollywood. You could keep saving people on your own merits, instead of following Dad's order. You could do _anything_."

Five's said something, once or twice, about Luther doing something else. Quiet questions, about college, about getting his own place, easily dropped after Luther said he was needed here. Never on the holiday, which has always been easy, calm. Never in this aggressive tone, with a look on his face like -- like he's fighting a losing battle, resigned and upset and angry all at once.

"I can't keep watching you waste away here for a man that doesn't give a shit about any of us," Five says, and the edge of sadness in his voice feels like as much of a slap as his actual words.

"Dad loves us," Luther says, and Five shakes his head.

"Dad loves what we do for him, if that. But even if he did love us, that wouldn't matter. He could love you while you figure out what you want to do. He could love you while you lived on your own, or somewhere else."

"What I'm doing is important."

"But do you like it?"

"Does that matter?" Luther asks, and Five pushes off the wall abruptly, moving across the room. Luther stands up to follow him as he moves to the bar, pulling down a bottle and a glass.

He stands quiet, leaning against the counter, as Five fixes himself a drink, his free hand holding tightly to the counter as he drinks most of it in one go.

"I didn't know you drink," he says, eventually, as Five refills his glass.

"Sometimes. Not often. When I feel the need. Not around here, usually," he says, the same bitter smile making another appearance. "But I guess today is special." He tilts the glass at Luther like a toast before lifting it to his lips, sipping this time.

"Why?" he asks, and Five places the glass back on the counter, staring down, fingers tracing lines across the surface

"Come home with me."

"That's not an answer."

"Come stay with me."

Luther goes silent, staring, watching as Five keeps twisting the glass with one hand, back and forth again and again, fidgety and tense. He doesn't have an idea what to say, so he stays silent, and Five sighs, eventually.

"I wasn't going to bring it up like that."

"But you were planning on bringing it up?" Luther says, the only thing he can think of, and Five shrugs, one-shouldered, and lifts the glass to take a sip.

"I don't want to watch you stuck in this place forever. I--" He hesitates, shakes his head a little, starts again. "You're important to me, Luther, and you're not happy here. You're lonely, and sad, and I know you miss everyone else. I know you don't like going on missions alone, and it's getting harder and harder to compensate for everyone else being gone, and something's going to go wrong. You're going to get hurt, and I can't just let that happen without saying anything."

"I get hurt all the time," Luther says quietly, not meaning to interrupt but trying to understand.

"All the more reason to leave. Before it gets worse." 

Five looks up, finally. He looks desperate, and Luther doesn't know what to say, wants to fix it and doesn't know how. Five reaches across the bar to put a hand over his, his grip tight. His hands are still cold from standing outside, and Luther wants to bring him over and start a fire, wants more than anything to sit down like this conversation never happened, warm him up and listen to him talk, wants to--

"Please, Luther," Five says quietly, and Luther swallows, and shakes his head.

Five draws his hand back, slowly. He downs the rest of his drink, and then sighs. "Okay," he says, and he sounds defeated, worn, all the anger gone in a snap. He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls a card out slowly, and sets it on the counter. There's no envelope this time, the colorful, embossed ornaments catching the light on the cover.

"Merry Christmas, Luther," he says, that bitter smile twisting his mouth up one more time as he walks away. Luther sits still, listening to his footsteps fade and the door close behind him, and he doesn't move for a long time.

**_January 11th, 2012_ **

Luther can't stop thinking about Christmas. About the resignation and anger and even the desperation Five has looked at him with, about the way he'd walked away and all Luther had wanted was for him to come back. He hasn't seen or heard from him since, and Luther doesn't think he's missed anyone like this since Allison left and that grief was fresh, aching every time he passed her door or looked at the spot where she used to sit.

It feels intense, it feels like it means something, but he can't think about it, can't let himself. He's distracted enough anyway. Training is hard to focus on, and he's never been so glad Dad lets him get on with it himself as he is when he catches himself staring into space when he's supposed to be doing his exercises. 

He has a mission, just after the new year. It goes easily enough, but one of them manages to catch him with something, a line of pain ripping across his arm as he's subduing the partner. It just needs a few stitches, nothing that bad, but he keeps hearing Five's words like they're echoing in his head. _All the more reason to leave. Before it gets worse._

There's nothing inside the card he left, not even the customary little signature in the corner. Luther keeps staring at it anyway at night, like it will give him answers.

When Five knocks at the door, he's not sure if it's a relief or not.

He's downstairs by chance, catches the door and opens it before Mom can get there. Five's eyes catch on the bandage on his arm, sticking out from under his short sleeves, and his mouth twists slightly, but he doesn't say anything.

"Do you want to come in?" Luther asks, and Five glances back over his shoulder.

"Come take a walk with me," he says instead, and Luther isn't sure it's a good idea, but he's missed him too much to say no.

He's leaning on the railings again when Luther steps out, coat buttoned and scarf around his neck. Five straightens up without a word, moving down the stairs and pausing outside the gates, glancing back to be sure Luther's following. He smiles, when he sees him there, and Luther smiles back, tentatively, as they fall into step.

They're blocks away, walking in silence, when Five glances sideways at him.

"The thing is," he says, like he's picking up a conversation instead of starting one, "I like you, Luther. I like talking to you. You listen. That's not a quality everybody has. And you're smart enough to follow more of what I do than most people I talk to."

Five hardly ever compliments anyone else's intelligence -- understandably enough, when his tends to outstrip everyone else's by so much -- and Luther feels pleased, even as he's worried about what this is all drawing to.

"And you care about people. I think even you'd be gone by now, if you didn't. You care about the people you're saving, and you care about the family. You want to be there in case they come back. But the thing is," Five continues, his voice softer as his steps slow down, Luther slowing to match, "they're not coming back, Luther, no matter how long you wait."

"I know that," Luther says, and Five stops abruptly, turning to face him. Luther mirrors him again, without thinking about it.

"Do you? Really? Because I think you know it, but you're still hoping anyway. You think if you stay, you'll be there when they need to come back, and eventually Dad will come out of his office and be nice to you, and you'll have people who care back." His voice is so gentle. It hurts, and Luther wants to protest it even as he knows it's the truth, but Five's voice is so gentle, and so is the way he's looking at him. "And he won't. And none of us will. But if you weren't there, you could at least talk to them. Ben would love to see you again, Vanya wouldn't turn you away. And I...."

He stops, there, trailing off, and Luther swallows, and asks, quietly, "And you?"

Five smiles a little. It's not bitter, but it's not happy either, sad and soft. "I love you, Luther," he says, plainly. "I like spending time with you. I want to see you have something better. Something you love."

"I love you," falls out of Luther's mouth before he can stop it, before he can think twice, but it feels right. It settles into place next to everything else he's feeling, next to that hole that feels closed now that Five is standing in front of him again.

Five shakes his head. "Not the same way," he says, and it doesn't quite make sense, until it does, one realization tumbling into place after another. It makes sense, but Luther finds the words stick in his mouth when he tries to ask, not wanting to somehow turn everything sour again, not wanting to be wrong.

"I don't know if that's true," he finally manages to say, and Five meets his eyes, searching, thoughtful.

"What way do you think that is?" Five asks, and Luther summons up all his courage, and still all he can do is reach out and take Five's hand. 

It's enough, though, and a slow smile spreads across Five's face, and he leans forward to take the step that Luther can't.

**_December 24th, 2012_ **

Five is gone when Luther wakes up, but not for long. He only has time to grab some coffee and settle onto the couch before the door clicks open and Five lets himself in, bakery box in hand and a soft smile on his face when he spots Luther.

"Merry Christmas," Luther says with a smile, and Five sets the box down on the table before leaning over the back of the couch for a quick, soft kiss.

"Merry Christmas," he says, and pulls an envelope out of his pocket. Luther laughs, taking it with his free hand. They hadn't talked about it, and with the presents stacked under the wreath in the corner -- because a tree seemed like a lot of mess, and neither of them really felt attachment to the idea of getting one -- Luther hadn't been sure if he should let the tradition die. Apparently, though, they had the same thought.

"Yours is on the dresser," he admits, and Five looks pleased.

The card is blue and snowy, the house on it glowing with light. Inside there's no printed message, but words written in a tidy script: _Merry Christmas. I love you._ and a familiar little number signature in the bottom right corner. Luther sets it carefully on the shelf with the others, listening to Five's footsteps as he comes back from the bedroom, and smiles as Five leans against him to open his card.

**Author's Note:**

> Last night I went, hmm, I've written everybody but Five and Luther in a ship now for the prompt list, I've never considered Five/Luther before, but I wonder if I can write it for completion's sake? 5.5k later, here we are. I may revisit this AU with a short thing later in the list, because I really enjoyed writing this. I hope someone enjoys reading it at least as much. :)


End file.
